


The Future at The End of The World

by Trams



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Zombies, Blood and Gore, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, not a lot but it is a zombie fic so there's some
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 01:57:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12180648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trams/pseuds/Trams
Summary: For the Mag7Week prompt: Alternate UniverseA year after the civil war ended the dead rose up and went after the living. A few years later and Goody and Billy are trying to survive in this world were a single bite from the undead will turn you into one of them.Or: the zombie au in the canon time period, which nobody needed





	The Future at The End of The World

**Author's Note:**

> There is a lot of disregard for historical accuracy in this, besides the zombies...

The jangling sound of empty cans clanging together woke him. He sat up with a gasp followed by a hushed: “Billy,” from his lips, and blinked once before he started to look around frantically, without really seeing anything as his vision was still sleep blurred and unfocused.

“It’’s alright, Goody,” Billy whispered, and a wave of relief washed over Goody. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply the scent of forest all around them. He felt Billy’s hand on his shoulder and Goody opened his eyes. He saw Billy crouching down next to him, a large dagger in his other hand. Close by one of the horses snorted and the other one moved uneasy.

“Just three of them,” Billy said, still in a low voice. Goody craned his head looking over his shoulder in the same direction Billy was looking. Empty bean cans strung up on ropes were suspended between the trees surrounding their camp site. It was a decent enough alarm system, though neither Billy nor Goody ever got a full night’s sleep, anyway.

It was still early morning and on the other side of the ropes three undead were moving past their camp, except for one of them which had stumbled into the rope. 

Goody sat unmoving staring at the man, though if he could still be called a man was debateable. Billy kept insisting that to still call them human would only make it harder to do what needed to be done. It should be easy enough for Goody to stop thinking of them as human, with plenty of experience to dehumanize from the war, memories of sergeants telling him to hate what he fired on. But ever since Goody found out – ever since the scientist they’d rescued, only to lose two days later, had told them – Goody had been struggling. 

He kept picturing the people behind their mask of death, forgot about their white eyes which seemed unseeing, they appeared to have somewhat impaired vision, but their hearing a whole lot better. Their hair had fallen out in clumps, and skin an almost yellow hue, sallow, in some places hanging in loose flaps, in other places stretched tight over their bones like drum skin.

The one trying to get through the string of cans, making them jangle and clang together, had one foot twisted. One of the others, a woman, was missing an arm, and the third had a wide open wound in its side.

While Goody sat completely still, staring transfixed, Billy sprung into motion. Moving quick and quiet he stabbed the first undead through the eye. He pulled two more knives to deal with the other two. Quick and efficient, with as little sound as possible, the loudest noise the undeads’ persistent moaning, until they were silenced with the squish-squelch sounds of blades piercing undead flesh.

“Goody,” Billy said, insistent, almost like he had been repeating it. Goody shook himself and looked up at Billy, who was already cleaning off his third knife and sheathing it again.

“Sorry, sorry,” Goody said. “Not quite awake I guess.”

Billy just nodded, he didn’t look at Goody like he was pitiful, but once again Goody wondered what Billy could possibly get out of traveling with Goody this way. 

Billy had escaped from the unfinished railway. The Union Pacific had stuck in there surprisingly long. Apparently under the impression that they could finish and that once they had trains running on their tracks everything would be fine. They had treated their workers like beasts the final six months. “Was almost happy when the wave of undead swarmed our camp,” Billy had said, though with a grim set to his mouth. That night he had screaming nightmares. 

It had been a massacre when the undead threw themselves on the starved railroad workers, most of them sick and unable to fight back.

Billy started to pack up, wrapping their cans-on-rope in their bedrolls to muffle the sound, while Goody got the horses ready. They were ready to move out in less than ten minutes. Their many different routines so well practiced by this point, depending on situations they could leave within moments or take their time, but never more than twenty minutes.

It was dangerous traveling. Horses were faster than the undead, but Goody had seen them when they moved in what could only be called a herd. When large numbers of them came together they could manage to surround a horse and take it down with frightening ease.

They had been camped out in a forest during the night, but as they headed south they soon left it behind in favor of open plains, with grass and bushes breaking up the sand, dirt and rocks. 

Until recently they had spent time in the north, like many others they had hoped the cold would permanently take care of the undead. The problem was they woke up in spring again. Hibernating in the cold and thawing out with the end of winter. There was also the deeply unpleasant discovery whenever someone accidentally disturbed a snowdrift and getting attacked by an undead which had been sleeping in the snow.

Goody and Billy had given it a shot, but come to the agreement that it wasn’t working, and decided to head towards the Mexican border instead.

It had been five years since the civil war ended, and it had been 1 483 days since the first reports of undead walking had started. Though from what Goody had understood later, by the time the news started spreading, it was already far too late. The dead had been walking before the war was even over. “It was the war,” the man they had saved from a group of undead in Iowa, had said. “All the killing all that death. It–”

“Goody,” Billy said, sharp voice bringing Goody back to the present.

He looked around, they were the only ones on the plain for miles. He looked at Billy, who was giving him a considering look.

“Got lost in your mind again,” Billy said.

“Billy…”

“Don’t dwell on it.”

Goody wondered how many times Billy had reminded him of that.

“Think of something else,” Billy said, he looked forward, and worried at his bottom lip for a moment and Goody watched him curiously. “Talk,” Billy said slowly. “Talk about anything, just not... this.”

It wasn’t the first time Billy encouraged Goody to talk, something he had needed little encouragement to do before. At first he had assumed it was just Billy trying to keep Goody distracted, but as he started to talk about novels he had read in his youth, he thought he could see Billy relax a little bit. A tightness in his spine, in his jaw, and hands which he hadn’t noticed until it was no longer there. Perhaps he needed to listen to Goody blather, or perhaps Goody was reading into things. Wishful thinking, grasping for something, any reason for Billy to stay with Goody.

Eventually Goody left the doldrums of the early morning, in time for the sun to come out of the clouds. He even made himself laugh on occasion, and when Billy turned to him with a genuine smile on his lips a warmth curled in Goody’s chest, making him grin even wider.

~

In the afternoon they reached one of many abandoned towns, no sign telling them what it had been called. Half of the buildings in the town seemed to have burnt to the ground, and the rest were falling to pieces. Weed and grass grew in clumps in the main street’s gravel and dust. It was eerily silent, something Goody had gotten used to towns being now days, it was surprising how quickly someone could get used to something.

The place had most likely already had its fair share of people going through it in search for food, but Billy and Goody did a quick sweep anyway. Tying their horses outside the still standing bank, tough its doors were wide open and dollar bills lay spread on the ground, fluttering a little in the breeze. They walked together from building to building, checking out the place, careful to not stray too far from each other.

Unsurprisingly they didn’t find much. Some supplies that could be of use, though no food. They hadn’t really expected to find any anyway. It had been four years. They were good at surviving on whatever they could hunt. Or fish if they stayed near a river long enough.

“You know, if we settled down somewhere we could start growing food,” Goody said as they mounted up again.

“You already forget what happened?” Billy asked.

“No, but we haven’t seen a herd for months.”

“I thought we agreed we should keep moving?” BIlly asked. Frowning a little as he looked at Goody.

“Yeah, yeah, I did,” Goody said. “I was just... Thinking I kind of missed vegetables. And you know, potatoes would be nice.”

Next to him Billy hummed in agreement.

The next day Goody really wished he had found some wood to knock on.

It was midday and the sun was brutal, Goody wished they could find some shade to curl up in and nap for a while, hoping for cool afternoon breezes. However they were riding through mostly desert now, and there hadn’t been so much as a tree in sight for miles.

They rode up on a ridge and stopped dead at the same time. Before them a large desert valley stretched out, and cutting through the valley heading west moved a herd of undead; like a dark, hungry and lethal, but slow-moving, river. Several hundred of them moved through the valley, too far away to make out any particular details of the individuals. They all moved close to each other, though there were some scattered around further away from the group.

“We’re not getting through that,” Goody mumbled. Billy didn’t answer right away, stared intently at the herd before he nodded slowly.

“No, I suppose not.”

They didn’t need to say anything, just turned their horses and started riding east, following the ridge and keeping an eye on the herd. Sometimes parts of it moved closer to the ridge, sometimes further away, it was as if the long band of undead were meandering, because they all took the strange loops, but considering there weren’t any obstacles in their way Goody couldn’t see why the first undead in the group had made the loop, nor why every undead after them followed the direction. However the undead not directly in contact with the larger group didn’t see affected by the loops the others had made, and just carried on walking forward.

The steep gradient of their ridge started to slope down for a couple of miles, coinciding with the herd walking closer to the ridge, and Goody was tense with awareness of how close they were to each other. He only had to glance to his right to see the rags the undead were wearing, the wounds on their bodies, the way some of their limbs had twisted and broken.

Their horses made some uneasy noises, but they didn’t dare ride any faster, not wanting to draw attention to themselves. Eventually their ridge rose again, but before that a large road, where Goody supposed cattle had been driven once, to cities north of the valley, cut through the ridge.

Late in the afternoon the herd of undead had moved past them, but Goody and Billy continued to move east along the ridge for a couple of more miles, the sand in the valley slowly taken over by long grass, before the ridge started to curve, and nestled below was a ranch.

Wordlessly they turned their horses, dismounted and carefully picked their way down the slope of loose gravel which moved and slipped under boots and their horses hooves. At the bottom they mounted up again.

Drawing closer to the house they heard a dog barking like mad from the main house, and from the barn came the sound of miserable cows mooing. 

In the middle of the field between the barn and main house, lay something large. Riding closer they could see it was the cadaver of a horse, though it was mostly bones left, the flesh picked clean. Trapped underneath the dead horse was an undead, wearing a stetson on its head, the legs which had been trapped underneath the horse, had too been picked clean. It reached for Goody and Billy with it’s arms, a revolver lying in the yellow grass next to it. It let out a pitiful moan, jaws snapping open and shut as it stared at them with pale dead eyes, it’s skin drawn taut with a yellowish tint.

Billy dismounted, one hand gripping the reins tight, because his mare looked ready to bolt. He moved in quick, stabbing the undead in the head before snapping up the gun. Billy mounted up again and they rode towards the house.

They tied the horses to the porch railing, leaving the tack on for now, in case they needed to make a hasty get-away. Goody walked behind Billy, up the wooden steps, which were quite clearly blood stained. They stopped on the porch outside the front door, which rattled a little on its hinges as the still barking dog inside threw itself against the door.

“What do you think the odds are that the dog will be overjoyed and happy to see us?” Billy asked, eyeing the door.

“Slim,” Goody said. “I’d say it’s more likely to attack.”

“I could probably shoot it if you open the door,” Billy said. Goody shot him an unimpressed look.

“I’m not saying I’ll like it,” Billy protested, and then glancing away from Goody added, “Just saying I could,” he grumbled.

“Let’s call that plan Z,” Goody said.

“If you’ve got a better plan which doesn’t end with one of us mauled by a crazed mutt, I’m all ears.”

“I’ve got a plan that won’t require anyone to kill any dogs?” Goody said, though what he had was just a half formed idea, but he wasn’t going to go into details, because then Billy would probably tell him it was stupid.

“What is it?” Billy asked. Eyes narrowing as he looked at Goody.

“You stay here and distract the dog by knocking on the door, and when I yell you can stop making noises.”

Billy’s frown deepened.

“What stupid thing are you going to do now?”

Goody gave him his best innocent expression.

“Nothing you wouldn’t do,” Goody said.

“The list of things I won’t do is very, _very_ short,” Billy said.

“It’ll be fine,” Goody said, trying to sound dismissive, but Billy didn’t seem convinced.

“I will break this door down,” Billy said.

“Please don’t, we might want to be able to close it later.”

“Then you better not do anything that gives me reason to break it,” Billy said.

“I won’t,” Goody said.

“Why don’t you tell me what you are about to do?” Billy said. “Let me do it instead.”

“I don’t need you to coddle me all the time,” Goody snapped. Billy’s eyes widened, and he looked taken aback.

“I don...” Billy started. Goody shook his head.

“Just keep that dog occupied,” Goody muttered and started walking along the porch which wrapped around the house.

“Goody,” Billy said concerned, but Goody ignored him and turned a corner. Exhaling heavily. He probably shouldn’t have snapped at Billy. 

He continued walking until he came to the back of the house, and there he pried open one of the windows. He crawled through and landed in a heap on the floor with a dull thud, but the barking was still coming from the front of the house. 

He got up on his feet and looked around. He had landed in a small room which reminded Goody of an office, or perhaps a small library considering the walls were covered in bookshelves, except for the one door, and the window he had entered through. There was also a large oak desk standing at one end of the room, two arm chairs in the other end, and a low table next to the door with a still living potted plant standing on it.

Goody closed the window, walked across the plush carpet which felt like it was almost swallowing his boots. He opened the door and crept out into the hallway. The hallway which unfortunately had hardwood floors, so he had to move very quietly.

He crept through the hallway, moving towards the sound of barking, his brain started to question what the hell he was doing. What was he trying to prove here? That he could get himself injured by acting like an idiot? He already knew that, Billy already knew that.

He reached the doorway to the large open room by the front door. There was a staircase leading up to Goody’s right. Doors both to the right and to the left leading to other parts of the house. Across the room, in front of the door was the dog.

“Hey, dog!” Goody yelled. The dog spun around with a yelp. It was black and white, the fur long, and it was about as tall as Goody’s knees. But it hunched down and growled, showing off it’s teeth, and the floppy ears lay flat against its head.

The knocking on the front door continued for another second and then stopped. Goody turned and ran back the way he had come.

The dog howled and Goody heard it’s claws on the floor behind him as he ran. He sprinted back to the office, grabbing the door frame and practically swung himself inside the room. Jumping and clambering up on the low table, knocking over the plant. 

The dog came close at his heels through the door, stumbling a little at the change of traction. 

Goody grabbed the door frame again, jumping out through the opening. He grabbed the door and slammed it close. The door hit the dog’s muzzle and paw, yelping it jumped back, and Goody was able to slam the door shut.

He sank down to the floor. Leaning his back against the door. The dog was howling behind the thick wood. 

With eyes close he panted hard catching his breath. It took another second before he heard the loud pounding and Billy shouting his name.

He walked back to the front door, opened it and in the next second he was pushed up against the wall.

“You idiot!” Billy growled, face close to Goody’s, and Goody didn’t think he’d ever seen Billy worked up like this. He was practically shaking.

“Billy,” Goody said. Trying to put a hand on Billy’s side, but the man stepped back from Goody, letting go of him.

“Don’t touch me,” Billy growled. He looked at Goody with an inscrutable expression. “You– you–”

“I locked the dog in an office,” Goody said.

Billy let his breath out in an explosive sigh. Looking away and shaking his head.

“It worked out really well,” Goody said. Billy glanced at him and let out a huff of breath, which almost sounded like a laugh.

Billy closed his eyes, and Goody saw him take a deep breath before shaking his head.

“We should clear the rest of the house,” Billy said, voice a little bit unsteady.

They walked together through the bottom floor. Through one of the doorways they found the parlour, and going through the door across from it they found the kitchen. The hallway Goody had been through included besides the office, two locked doors, which they decided not to break through, even though there were no sounds coming from inside, and at the far end a glass door through which they could see the conservatory, all glass and wood walls and filled with flowers as well as vegetable plants.

Upstairs they found the master bedroom, along with two smaller bedrooms, and two bathrooms.

Returning to the kitchen they checked out the pantry.

“They must have left recently,” Billy said. The pantry was still stocked with some produce, most of which hadn’t even gone bad yet.

They stuffed their saddle bags full of food, and took the saddles off their horses, changed bridles into halters, tying them to a long rope so that they could graze. Billy went and fetched them all buckets of water from a well, and Goody started preparing dinner while the night fell around them.

Besides the unhappy cows in the barn there was also a goat. Billy butchered it, and roasted it over an open fire outside, so that they could have goat to go with their potatoes that evening.  
~

“You know,” Billy said later, after their meal and they were on the couch in the parlour, Billy sitting cross legged on the couch facing Goody, as they played cards. Goody was feeling almost relaxed. “That dog is going to starve here anyway.”

“I’ll leave the window open when we leave,” Goody said with a shrug, “and there’s some bits of the goat we won’t be able to eat now anyway, and it’s not like we have the time to dry and preserve all the meat.”

Goody finished dealing and picked up his own cards, but he barely glanced at them, instead he looked over at Billy, who was looking at his own cards with a look of concentration. Goody’s breath hitched at the sight of Billy illuminated by candle light.

They had found a dark-green railway lantern in the shed earlier – wondering what it had been doing there of all places – and they had placed it on the table next to them and lit the candle inside, they had also filled the rest of the room with lit candles, after first covering the windows with heavy thick blankets hanging from the curtain rods.

“Three,” Billy said, looking up from his cards, placing two down on the cushion between them. 

Goody shook himself and looked down at his own, not quite taking in what they were he threw away two at random and then dealt three cards for Billy and two for himself. Biting back a sigh, because he used to have a good poker face dammit, now that he was actually paying attention to his cards, and realizing he’d thrown away a pretty decent pair of jacks, in favor of having nothing at all on his hand. 

He wished he could accuse Billy of being a distraction, with his hair let loose after they had washed before their meal, and now it hung down way below his shoulders, some of it kept getting in his face, and he was repeatedly pushing it out of his eyes – those intense dark, beautiful eyes.

Billy easily won the deal, and dragged the coins and bills, once a small fortune and now useless bits of metal and paper, towards himself, and organized it all into neat piles. Goody looked down at what little he had left. They’d found the money stashed in various places in the house, the previous owners clearly not trusting the bank to keep their life savings safe.

“You’re usually better at this,” Billy pointed out and started shuffling the deck.

“Off day,” Goody said with a shrug. “I ever tell you about the time I fell into the Mississippi river?”

“No,” Billy said.

“Well, it wasn’t actually the river,”

“And you wonder why I so rarely believe your stories,” Billy said, but he had a small smile at the corner of his mouth, looking down at his hands as he started dealing.

“They are almost always true,” Goody protested. “I just stretch the truth to some extent every now and again.”

“Is that what we’re calling it now,” Billy said, and finished dealing, lifting his cards. Goody gave him a crooked smile, and glanced at his own cards. Throwing in some money in between them.

While they played he wove a story, mostly true with some details altered, of a young boy trying to capture frogs he was going to use to scare his siblings, but instead ending up falling into the creek behind their house. Soon enough they were both laughing at Goody’s shenanigans as a kid. A pleased warm feeling curling in Goody’s chest as he watched the way Billy threw his head back and laughed.

Goody won that hand, scraping back a few coins and bills, before dealing and winning again. They settled down a bit from all their laughing. Goody looked up at Billy who and caught him looking at him.

“We could make time,” Billy said, it felt like he was picking up a conversational thread, but Goody couldn’t remember what it could be, until Billy continued. 

“We could stay,” Billy said, not looking at his hands when he started dealing, still looking straight at Goody.

“You want to move on,” Goody dismissed.

“I go where you go,” Billy said with a shrug and looked away. “That means I stay where you stay too.”

Something like relief washed over him, but tinged with a lingering sense of unease, because why? What had Goody been contributing with for the past year? Nothing much at all, he thought bitterly.

“Why?” Goody asked, surprising himself.

“Why what?” Billy asked, his hands stopped moving, and Goody watched them rather than Billy’s face, but still knew Billy was looking at him.

“What do you get out of protecting me?” Goody asked. Billy snorted.

“Besides company?” Billy asked. 

Billy suddenly gripped Goody’s chin lightly but firmly between his fingers and tilted his head up so that he was looking Billy in the eyes. Eyes which seemed to be boring through Goody’s very soul.

“We protect each other,” Billy said. Conviction burning in his voice.

“I don’t think I’ve used my rifle in a year,” Goody said. “My revolver has gone rusty from disuse.”

“You protect me,” Billy insisted. 

Billy let go of him and lowered his hand, but Goody couldn’t look away, caught in Billy’s eyes.

“You keep me from going insane.” Goody put his cards down, and Billy carried on. “I was alone for seven months and fifteen days before I met you. I am never– _never_ going to go back to that,” there was a hitch to Billy’s voice which made Goody’s heart ache with a need to hold him. 

“You make me laugh. In the middle of all the tragedy around us you can still make me laugh, can still make me feel alive. I would never get through the long rides without the sound of your voice.” 

Billy was still looking him in the eyes, his voice emotional and earnest. 

“You are my friend Goody, I don’t need you to shoot. I will happily protect you, because you are there protecting my mind. I would fight a herd of undead for you, just you watch.”

“I’d rather not watch you do that,” Goody said. Billy huffed a laugh, eyes crinkling. 

Their card game forgotten they had moved loser and closer to each other, and Goody was surprised at finding himself with his face so close to Billy’s. Their noses almost bumping, breath mingling and if he just leaned in one last inch…

A loud crash came from the back of the house. Goody jumped up and back, away from Billy. They both jumped off the couch, Billy going for his knives as he headed out of the room, Goody following him and grabbing the lantern, and they walked to the dark hallway leading to the back of the house.

Reaching the door to the conservatory Goody lifted the lantern and let it shine through the glass door. The light fell on a group of undead that had broken in, and were now shambling between the aisles of plants. Two young men wearing dirty shirts and pants, another man in a vest over his shirt, two women wearing dresses, the fabric torn and ripped, one with a bonnet which had fallen off her head and was now hanging around her neck.

When the light hit them they all seemed to spasm and headed straight for the door. Goody quickly lowered it.

“Goody,” Billy said in a low voice. “Go get the horses ready.”

Goody grabbed Billy’s arm, but he wasn’t looking at Goody and shrugged his hand away.

“I will distract them,” Billy said.

“I am not leaving you,” Goody hissed. Anger and cold fear making his chest feel tight and his heart beat faster.

“Yes, you are,” Billy said. They could both hear the moaning from the undead, and the shuffling from their feet getting closer to the door.

“No,” Goody said insistent. And then in the next moment he was pushed up against a wall for the second time that day, Billy close to his face, and while there wasn’t a lot of light, he could see the determination in his eyes, the tenseness to his jaw.

“You got to do something utterly stupid today,” Billy said. “Now it’s my turn.”

“That doesn’t sound right at all,” Goody said.

Something large hit the floor on the other side of the door resulting in a loud crash, and the undead snarled and growled.

“Go,” Billy said and shoved Goody into motion.

“Billy,” Goody hesitated.

“I will be fine,” Billy said. “Now get the horses ready.” 

He gave Goody a reassuring small smile. Goody chewed his bottom lip for another moment. Staring at Billy.

“Be careful,” Goody said. He turned and hurried down the hallway.

“You be careful,” Billy called after him..

Behind the office door, the dog was barking when he walked past.

Outside in front of the house their horses were snorting and stomping their hooves restlessly. Goody quickly put their tack on, tying the saddlebags to the saddles. All the while worrying about Billy, and the lack of any loud sounds. 

Goody had brought the lantern with him, and had it placed on the ground. He knew Billy was good at sneaking around in the dark, he was quiet, he saw better than the undead did in the dark, but Goody skin was prickling with the need to rush back inside.

He left the horses tied up to the porch railing, they would only have to pull at one end of the rein for the knot to slide loose, and they could be away in a heartbeat. He grabbed his rifle, he might not have used it in a while, but he wasn’t going to go back inside without it. He also had no intention of waiting for Billy. 

Leaving the lantern on the ground he climbed the steps up to the porch. He was almost at the door, when an undead came walking along porch. It moaned, one arm stretched towards Goody, as it shambled forward.

Goody lifted his rifle and took aim, his hands shook, and all he could see was the blue coat the undead was wearing. 

_A blue coat, trembling hands, a young face staring back at him in fear, pale skinned but very much alive for the time being, until Goody squeezed the trigger. A voice in his mind repeating: “it was the war. The war that started it. All that death. So many dead bodies.”_

Goody blinked, over and over again. Loud moaning came closer. His whole body was frozen and trembling. He blinked again. He never blinked. Officers, as well as fellow soldiers, always said “That Goodnight Robicheaux, never blinks. Always looking straight ahead when he’s got someone in his sight. Not taking his eyes off them till they are dead on the ground.”

A loud crash from inside brought him out of his spiral.

“Billy,” Goody gasped. 

In front of him a suit clad undead snarled and was inches from the tip of the rifle barrel. Goody squeezed the trigger. The gunshot cracked loud the air – one of the horses made a scared noise – the undead’s head exploded in a shower of black blood and grey, slimy brain matter.

Goody took a shuddering breath before turning on his heel and running inside the house again.

“Billy!” Goody shouted as he rushed down the hallway towards where he had left Billy. He wasn’t thinking, he only knew he had to run to Billy. 

He reached the door to the office, where suddenly another undead came shuffling forward. Goody skidded to a halt, and started to lift his rifle. When he registered the barking and clawing on the door behind him. Before he thought about what he was doing he threw the door open. The dog came flying out the door and leaped at the surprised undead, teeth digging into its throat.

Goody turned his back on the sight and continued running. He burst through the open door to the conservatory, immediately spotting Billy surrounded by a group of undead, illuminated by the moon shining through the windows.

“Billy!” Goody shouted. Billy’s shirt and face was splattered with the dark blood from undead, and several bodies lay on the floor by Billy’s feet.

The group of undead turned and started to slowly move towards Goody. Billy stabbed a dagger through the ear of one of the undead with its back to Billy.

Goody raised his rifle when there was a flash of blue, and he shuddered. Closing his eyes.

“Goody! Goody!”

Goody snapped to attention again. Squeezing the trigger. The shot missed, taking out a window pane. He corrected the aim and shot one of the undead in the head. Billy took out another undead, and Goody shot the one coming up behind Billy, in the head. He backed away while reloading and muttering to himself.

“Caused it. If it weren’t for me…”

Billy stabbed two more undead before Goody had reloaded and lifted the rifle in trembling hands. Trembling hands that became steady when he saw the two undead behind Billy, and the picked them off one by one, flinching with every shot.

Goody breathed hard, and watched Billy take down one more undead, making his way over to Goody. He put his hands on Goody’s, helping him lower the rifle.

“I caused it. The war,” Goody mumbled. It felt like he was floating, like he wasn’t entirely present in his own body, in his own whirling mind. “The war. He said the war caused it.”

“Goody,” Billy’s voice firm but gentle. “Listen to me. Look at me.” Goody’s eyes went to Billy’s instantly. Billy’s hands were still on top of Good’s, warm and strong, safe hands.

“You are not responsible for the war,” Billy said. “You are not the reason any of this happened.”

“He said… He said bodies, left to rot in forests in Georgia,” Goody continued, “I was in Georgia, Billy. I was there.” Pain laced his voice and he knew he must look desperate staring into Billy’s calm face.

“So were many,” Billy said. “You did not cause this. He couldn’t have known for sure anyway.”

“But,” Goody started.

The sound of glass crunching under boots distracted them, and they looked over at the glass wall. More undead were entering the conservatory. Billy gripped Goody’s arm and started to drag him a couple of steps, before Goody followed, and they started to jog down the hallway. Jumping over the dog busy dragging the body of the undead inside the office.

“Give me your flask!” Billy shouted when they both burst through the front door, and Goody had started down the steps. He didn’t hesitate, just reached into his inner pocket and pulled out the flask, tossing it to Billy who caught it easily. Goody jogged down the steps, and turned around watching Billy pour the contents of the flask all over the porch stoop.

“Billy!” Goody exclaimed, while Billy tossed the now empty flask at Goody who caught it. Billy took the steps two at a time, reaching the ground, bending down and picking up the lantern, he tossed it onto the porch, the glass covering breaking, and the candle inside falling out lighting the alcohol on the porch on fire.

Goody grabbed Billy’s arms.

“Are you alright?” He let go of one arm, reaching up to stroke Billy’s cheek, trying to wipe away some of the blood splatter. “You’re covered in blood,” Goody said.

“It’s theirs,” Billy said. “All theirs. What about you?” Billy’s voice cracked with emotion, and he looked Goody over with worry. “There’s blood on you.”

“Not mine,” Goody said.

Before he could react, Billy grabbed Goody’s shirtfront in both hands, and pulled Goody in for a kiss. All raw emotion and a desperate, almost pained, noise at the back of his throat. Goody opened up to Billy’s onslaught giving back as good as he got. Getting lost in the hot wet mouth matching his own.

It was messy and desperate. Goody moved his hands to Billy’s head, burying his fingers in Billy’s long black hair. Soft to his touch and he twirled it around his fingers, tugging at it lightly as Billy sucked on his tongue and moaned into Goody’s mouth.

Goody’s heart raced, he was short of breath, and it felt like something was trying to burst through his chest when they broke their kiss. Billy taking a step back, a little wide around his eyes, and Goody licked his own lips, they felt bruised and puffy and they tingled.

“Wow,” Goody mumbled, and swallowed hard. The corner of Billy’s mouth twitched. And Goody wanted to kiss it. He cupped the back of Billy’s head, pulling him in close again, his other hand going around Billy’s back. Billy’s hands gripped Goody’s shirt tightly. Goody pressed a kiss to the corner of Billy’s mouth.

A horse whinnied, and they broke apart again. Goody looked over Billy’s shoulder and their horses were pulling at their tied reins, ears flat back, nostrils flared and eyes wide. Next to the porch steps the flames had risen higher and the fire was spreading.

“We should go,” Goody said. They hurried over to their horses, untying them, and holding them fast until they’d mounted up. Just as Goody was about to turn his mare, he saw the dog come flying across the flames.

“Good luck dog,” Goody called out, and then both he and Billy set off, galloping away fast. They didn’t try to climb the ridge again, just let their horses rush along the valley floor in the direction they had come from earlier.

During the first half hour of their ride Goody’s mind was blank, but as they started to slow down, Goody’s mind went back to kissing Billy. The softness of Billy’s lips, the taste of him, the desperate way he had clung to Goody, and Goody feeling just as desperate in turn. The overwhelming need to be close to Billy. He had wanted it for a while, almost from the first moment he saw him. When he’d come upon the man fighting five undead, the way Billy had moved, graceful and deadly. He’d been impressed and instantly attracted. An attraction which had grown into fondness and a stronger attachment to another person than he had ever felt before.

He thought about Billy pushing him against the wall earlier, the worry and concern in his eyes. The fierceness in his voice when he’d said he’d fight a herd of undead – a concept of some concern, while Goody didn’t doubt Billy’s skill, a whole herd seemed a bit too much for any one man to take on alone – the way he had insisted they protected each other. He could finally accept it as true, not because he had managed to fire his rifle – he knew there might be a day when he froze completely again. He could only hope it would be because he himself was in danger, and not at a crucial moment to save Billy’s life – but because as much as Goody might be keeping Billy sane, Billy kept Goody sane too – or at least tried to.

They slowed down, and turned towards the ridge again where the ridge opened up to a road. Walking their panting horses Goody turned and looked at Billy.

“We should make camp?” Goody asked, and looked at the rocky ground. He had been looking forward to a night in bed.

Billy pointed to the horizon, and Goody realized he could see it. They had ridden through the night and the first hint of light was turning the sky a slightly lighter shade of blue.

“Not much point is there,” Goody said.

“Should stop and let the horses rest,” Billy said, and Goody nodded.

They tied the horses to a tree, not bothering to take off any of their gear. 

After which Goody let himself be pulled close by Billy, leaning in to a long slower kiss than their earlier frantic ones. They sank down to the ground, Billy leaning against a tree and Goody sitting in between his legs. Twisted half around so that they could trade soft kisses. Goody got lost in it. A warm feeling bubbling in his chest, as he carded his fingers through Billy’s hair. Billy’s hands holding onto Goody’s shoulders, and Goody’s other hand resting on BIlly’s thigh.

After a while, when the light at the horizon was getting brighter. They leaned their foreheads together. Breathing softly, and Goody had his eyes closed. He was tired, sleepy, and felt so warm and safe in Billy’s embrace that he was struggling to think of reasons not to let himself fall asleep. Billy stroked his chin, and down his jawline, and Goody leaned into the touch.

“You should sleep a little,” Billy whispered.

“What about you?” Goody asked.

“I’m not tired.” Billy cupped Goody’s face between his hands. Tilting Goody’s head down so that he could press a kiss to the crown of Goody’s head. “I’ll keep watch over you.”

Goody was about to protest, but was interrupted by a jaw cracking yawn, and he let himself be guided to lean his head against Billy’s chest. Two strong arms wrapping around him, and it didn’t take more than a moment before Goody drifted off.

He didn’t sleep for very long, but the sun was visible on the horizon when he did open his eyes. He stayed still enjoying listening to Billy’s steady calm heartbeat, and after a second felt Billy’s arms squeezing him a little tighter.

“Mornin’,” Billy murmured followed by something in Korean which Goody couldn’t understand, but was said with such warmth and joy in his voice it made Goody’ chest swell with warmth and happiness.

~

After a while they took off, following the ridge back again, and soon found themselves looking down at the ranch once more. The main house had burned down, though smoke was still rising from it.

“I guess we just have to accept that there will be no settling down,” Goody said with a small sigh.

“Oh, I was thinking something else entirely,” Billy said. 

Goody looked over at him in surprise.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes,” Billy said, a slow smile spreading on his lips before he glanced over at Goody and winked. “I really want you in a bed.”

Goody couldn’t help the surprised burst of laughter. He smiled crookedly at Billy.

“Well, I like the way you are thinking, but...” He pointed at the smoking ruin.

“We just need to secure it better,” Billy said. “Fortify.” He looked out over the valley. “Find somewhere more secluded and not out in the open like this.” He glanced at Goody. “I want to do what you want to do.”

“I don’t want to make you, it should be a joint decision.”

“I wasn’t married to the idea of heading south, I’m more than willing to stop.” He looked down. “What I would like most is to not lose you on the road if we could have been safe in a house.”

“Likewise,” Goody said. Billy smiled at him.

“So, carry on until we find a good location I guess?”

Goody nodded.

“The cows,” Billy said. Which made Goody raise an eyebrow at the non sequitur.

“What?”

“They could be good eating, a shame to just leave them.”

“How are you suggesting we bring them? Herd them in front of us?”

Billy shrugged.

“What’s the harm in trying, besides we should get down there and fill up on water from the well anyway.”

They made their way down the slope and rode past the ruins of the main building, as well as past the fire Billy had roasted the goat over. Where the dog lay in the grass gnawing on a bone. It perked up upon seeing the horses, but seemed a lot less aggressive, and didn’t look like it was about to attack.

They had looked through the barn as well as the shed the day before, but only cursory, having saved it for the following day. Now they went through it a bit more thorough, gathering rope, which could always be of use, as well as any feed not gone bad. They also found a large number of canteens and two small barrels for water.

Goody lugged it all over to the well, while Billy prepared the cows, one bull and two steers. Their original plan to herd them had changed into tying them together on a long line, as well as having them lug the water on their backs.

The air was already getting quite hot, and Goody tossed his coat onto a rock next to the well, and rolled up his shirtsleeves before he started to push the well’s crank hauling up buckets of water which he filled the canteens, as well as pouring the water into the barrels. He paused after a while, putting a ladle into the bucket and using it to drink greedily, some water splashing down his chin, throat and down underneath his shirt. Wiping his mouth he opened his eyes and spotted the dog sitting a few feet away looking at him warily.

“Hey dog,” Goody said. He dipped the ladle in the water again, before crouching down and holding it out towards the dog. The dog hesitated, before it crept a few steps closer, stomach close to the ground, tail between its legs. Goody stayed completely still and waiting. The dog paused and moved, and paused and moved, before it was close enough to stretch its muzzle forward and nose at the water. Goody made sure to stay still and silent, and soon enough the dog started lapping up the water, body slowly relaxing. Once it was done it sat back on its haunches, licking its mouth.

“Good?” Goody asked. The dog licked its muzzle again. “Good,” Goody said and went back to hauling water. The dog sat and watched him do it, though it slunk away again when footsteps came nearer. Goody turned and grinned at Billy.

“You ready?” Billy asked. He was carrying a hammer and some nails. Wearing only his shirt, sleeves rolled up and several buttons unbuttoned showing off skin that glistened a little with sweat, and suspenders hanging down by his hips.

“Almost,” Goody said. Continuing to turn the crank, while Billy started sealing the first barrel, a steady hammering filling the otherwise almost quiet air. They finished at the same time, and Goody handed the ladle of water to Billy who drank as greedily and sloppily as Goody, with water trickling down his chin and throat. Goody leaned in and quickly licked a stripe up the side of his neck.

“Conserving water,” Goody said with a smirk when Billy glanced at him. Billy huffed, but smiled amused.

They loaded up the cows who had been outfitted with rudimentary rope harnesses for carrying some of their bags, most of their water supply, and all the fodder they had found. The long horned cows were all tied to a rope which in turn was tied to Billy’s saddle, and they seemed happy enough to follow along, and they made their way up the slope heading east, at a steady walk.

At first Billy and Goody rode side by side, but once they had left the valley behind them Goody dropped back to keep an eye on the rear, and as such he was the first one to notice when the dog joined them twenty minutes later. It came trotting between the bushes, and Goody spotted it when he had turned his head to look back. He held back a little more, letting the dog come up side by side with him. Tongue lolling out of its mouth it seemed content to just trot next to Goody’s horse, so Goody let it.

~

Late in the afternoon, while the sun was still setting they stopped on a patch of sand and rock in the middle of all the long yellow grass. There Billy and Goody hammered down thick pieces of wood in the ground, and tied the ropes of cans around them, forming a large square of trip wire, and in the middle they could roll out their bedrolls. The square large enough that the cows and horses could stand in one corner. Goody fed the animals, and Billy made a small fire, hiding it behind large rocks, and on the other side of the ropes he put it out as soon as they were finished cooking their dinner.

Goody tossed some scraps of jerky to the dog, which it gulfed down in seconds and then it jogged a couple of laps around their camp site, sniffing the line, lifting its leg and peeing, marking its territory.

Billy and Goody had pushed their bedrolls together and they lay down holding each other, pulling a thick blanket over them both. Billy resting his head on Goody’s chest, and Goody running his fingers through Billy’s soft hair.

During the night they switched their positions, and Goody woke up with his head on Billy’s chest, and arm across his stomach. Billy was still sleeping from the way his chest rose and fell, but something else had woken him up. He looked around and heard a soft whine, and his eyes fell on the dog.

“What?” Goody asked the dog, voice low, and he hesitantly rolled away from Billy to better assess why the dog had woken him up. As soon as there was empty space between them though, the dog slunk down underneath the blanket between them, turned around and stuck it’s head out the top.

“Oh, you want to cuddle?” Goody asked. Scritching the dog behind the ears.

“I can’t believe I’m going to have to compete with a dog for your affection,” Billy grumbled, sleepy and not yet opening his eyes.

“Never, cher,” Goody said. He leaned over the dog and kissed Billy’s forehead. Billy made a pleased sound, corners of his mouth twitching.

They didn’t bother with breakfast, just packed up, loading the animals and then they set out again for another day’s ride. Goody spent the day telling Billy about the time when he built a raft, only for it to fall apart, and he was almost eaten by an alligator. It was a surprisingly funny story _now_ , but back when he had been growing into a gangly teen, it had been a source of embarrassment whenever the incident was brought up by his parents or grandparents.

~

It took them a while but they crossed the praire without incident and they reached another abandoned town, where they stopped and had one of the cows butchered. They stayed in the town for a while, salting and drying the meat. While they tried out different ways of fortifying a building against the undead.

The dog quickly grew familiar with them, Billy named him Trip because of the many times he managed to get underfoot and tripping them, but he could be very useful as well, with the way he patrolled his territory and barked wildly whenever he saw an undead.

They went from house to house in the town and gathered everything they thought they could possibly need, which included several yards worth of barbed wire, which while not entirely easy to transport they managed to bring with them.

The town lay a couple of miles from a forest and a mile outside it they came upon another ranch, where they were able to get their hands on some hens, tying the cages to their remaining cows, before they ventured deep into the forest.

They could probably have stayed in the town, but much like the ranch it was a bit too open. And while they could have maybe fortified one of the buildings, maybe even half the town. They had both come to the silent agreement that what they needed was solitude together. They had tried staying with a larger group before, and it hadn’t worked out so well. They needed a place remote enough that other survivors weren’t likely to stumble across it.

They found an old path, half overgrown by bushes and grass and flowers, but still a path, and they followed it deeper and deeper into the forest. Four nights later the trees opened up to a large meadow, though smaller trees were starting to grow beyond the tree line. The path cut through the grass and up a gentle slope to an abandoned cabin. A cliff wall rose behind the cabin. The grass covered slope from the cabin also ran down to a wide creek. Between the creek grew trees in a wide circle up to the cliff wall around the meadow and cabin. The yard from the cliff to the cabin, as well as around the cabin was gravel, everywhere else grew green grass and lots and lots of flowers.

The cabin itself was a sturdy log cabin, though the roof had fallen in, and the door took some pulling at the handle to open, and inside it was filled with dust, debri from the roof, and a smell of forest and decay. It did seem empty however, and it only had the one room. From what they could make out there was a small kitchen area in one corner, mostly consisting of the stove, a large oak table in the middle of the room was covered in most of the fallen roof materials, the chairs lay on the floor. Opposite from the kitchen area stood a bed frame with a disintegrating mattress filled with straw on top of it.

They backed away from the cabin and surveyed the area again, looking down to the creek and then at the forest encircling them.

“This we can work with,” Billy said, after they had walked over to the well close to the cabin.

“Question is, where do we start?” Goody asked. They would need to fix up the cabin if they wanted to live in it, and while it would take some time they could probably put off doing it for a little while, since it was still middle of summer, and they could still sleep outdoors. But it was going to take time to build something for the cows, horses, and a chicken coop, and that didn’t even take into consideration the very urgent need for defenses to be constructed.

“Outer defenses?” Billy asked. “Just something basic for now, we’ve got all that barbed wire. It should be enough to cover from there,” he started to point at the creek, “and there,” he dragged his finger through the air, past the forest where they had come from to the cliff wall.´Before turning and pointing at the cliff wall on the other side and down to the other end of the creek visible in the opening between the trees.

They worked all day gathering logs in a reasonable size which they could turn into fence posts, and then hammering them down into the thankfully soft enough ground. They had barely covered half the distance on one side of the cabin when night started to fall.

Sweaty and tired they ventured down to the creek to wash up. Tossing all their clothes onto the grass and dirt bank before jumping down into the cold water. It was deep enough neither of them could touch the bottom without dipping their heads. It was wide, but not so wide that it made them winded to swim to the other side.

Goody didn’t know who started splashing the other one, but he would insist it was Billy – who insisted it was Goody. But soon enough they had made a game out of splashing each other with water. A feeling of carefreeness and joy sweeping over Goody, in a way he couldn’t remember feeling for years.

Billy dove underneath the surface. Goody spun around in a lazy circle eyeing the dark water suspiciously.

Hands gripped his ankles, before he could react his legs were pulled forward with such force he lost his balance and went under the water with a splash and a last second gasp for air.

He came up to the surface again spluttering and spitting water, and in front of him he heard Billy snickering. Smiling despite himself Goody moved quickly and was able to put his hands on Billy’s shoulders pushing him down and dunking him under the water. Mesmerized by the way his dark locks fanned out in the water he let go and Billy jumped up again. 

Goody only let Billy catch his breath before he tangled his fingers in Billy’s hair at the back of his head and pulled him into a kiss. Teeth clacking and lips wet, his mouth tasting of water and Billy met him in a fierce kiss. Their naked bodies rubbing against each other in the water. Heat pooling in Goody’s belly.

They kissed for a long while, until they started shivering, at which point they crawled out of the creek, bundled up their clothes and hurried up to the cabin. 

They had tied up their alarm system from the two corners at the back of the cabin, and almost the whole yard to the cliff. There they had left the horses, cows and the rest of their belongings. Trip was running loose all over the place, and Goody had been surprised the dog didn’t want a swim as well.

They started a small fire, and didn’t bother getting dressed, just sat together underneath the same blanket. Unable to stop touching each other as they ate.  
~

Working all day the next day they finished fencing in their meadow on both sides. The fence standing several feet from the tree line, so that they could see if any undead came walking towards the fence. They let loose the cows and horses to graze right away, and they went happily.

“The grass might not be enough for all four,” Goody pointed out when they stood outside the cabin and looked down the slope.

“You’re probably right.”

“Maybe we should butcher the cows?” Goody said. “Can build a smaller shelter for the horses that way too.”

“We are going to be happy for the meat in winter though,” Billy said. “We’ll make do, perhaps they can graze among the trees away from the meadow?”

“Worth a try,” Goody said. “Also I can fish.”

Billy shot him a dubious look.

“What?” Goody said. “I can.”

“After all those stories of your mishaps on water you want me to believe that?”

“I told you those stories to amuse you and make you laugh,” Goody protested. “Not so that you could doubt my ability to fish. I am a great fisherman.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Billy said. Lips almost twitching into a smile.

“I’ll show you,” Goody grumbled. Billy kissed his cheek.

“I look forward to it.”

That evening they cleaned out the cabin. Looking through the debris for anything that could be used, and anything else as long as it was flammable ended up in the small woodshed next to the cabin. That was when they discovered the wood of the bed frame had rotted and the whole thing ended up hacked to pieces and dumped in the woodshed.

The next day they started working on the roof, by spending the whole day not even going near the cabin, as they were busy felling trees. Goody sang or talked as they worked, and in his own pauses Billy filled the silence with stories of his own. 

They spent every night wrapped up in each other, Trip watching over them. Sometimes Goody had his nightmares that woke him up, but Billy would hug him a little tighter and Goody could hide his tear streaked face against Billy’s collar bones, breathing in the comforting smell of him, until he dozed off again.

When the roof was done, and Goody had finished the new bed frame – nothing fancy, just a basic frame, and Billy filled a mattress with what they had available – they moved on to building shelter for the animals, but not until after a night of vigorously and pleasurably taking advantage of their brand new bed underneath the roof of their cabin.

The heat of late summer days slowly slipped into chill fall mornings, and the leaves on the trees of their forest started to change color. Goody got rid of a nest of bats in the chimney and they could start using the stove to heat the cabin. Trip chased rabbits in the forest and brought back his kills. 

Directly underneath the cliff face stood soon a very rudimentary shelter for their cows and horses, and right next to the cabin they had a small coop for the chickens.

It turned out that while they did have some fish, mostly catfish, in their creek, they had an abundance of crayfish, and they caught and ate those until they were both sick of them, but they kept eating them.

Every now and again a couple of undead would stumble out from between the trees and get stuck on the barbed wire, and every time it happened Billy would head down there to stab them in the head and push them away from the fence.

~

Winter came, mild and unlike the north didn’t bring any snow with it, but the cows and horses were grateful for the shelter as the rain fell most days. And the steer’s stomach had started to grow.

Goody and Billy spent a lot of long mornings during the winter in bed, before getting up and getting on with chores or working on defences outside. They felled trees on the outside of the fence, sharpening one end into a point, leaning them so that the point would be at about chest height. They finished by placing left over barbed wire between the felled trees.

The bull was allowed to live through winter, and in spring they started preparing separate enclosures for the bull and steer in the forest away from the meadow, and the horses. Those enclosures were made up out of mostly leftover logs, and large rocks.

When March rolled around they started digging ditches in the forest in random places, filling them with sharpened poles. They also started tilling the earth in their meadow for crops. But first they had to ride back to what had been civilization, even though it was going to be a journey of a week and leaving the animals alone for that long was a gamble. However Goody was adamant about Billy not going alone, they’d had a whole row about it. And when Goody suggested Billy stay behind Billy had glared at him and refused to even speak to him for a day.  
~

So a warm day in March they left the animals outside to graze, and told Trip to stay and guard, to which he whined a lot, but he actually stayed, to Goody’s surprise. As far as they had been able to determine the dog didn’t understand even a single command, and had proven difficult to teach, though Goody suspected that was because the dog didn’t care and not because he was stupid.

They made good time, not having the cows with them, they could trot more, and even gallop when the ground was even. Their increased speed didn’t halve the journey, but it did shave off one day.

They paid a visit to another ranch this time, stealing every scrap of barbed wire fencing they had and putting it in a wagon.

They split up, and Billy took the main house, while Goody went towards the large shed next to the barn. He was whistling, carrying his rifle across his shoulders, and ambling forward. Lulled into a strange sense of security after months of being able to relax because he felt safe.

The door to the shed was unlocked, and Goody let go of the barrel of his rifle before opening the door and stepping inside the glum shed. He left the door open to get some more light than the two narrow windows high up on one wall could give him.

The room was rectangular, with shelves lining one wall, and various spades, rakes, a couple of hoes, and scythes, lined up against the other wall. The closest shelf to Goody held a myriad of smaller tools for gardening, as well as some hedge trimmers that looked rather rusty, though Goody suspected most of the tools would be of use to them.

He walked further inside, and found a shelf filled with small wooden boxes, with carvings of different plants on the lids. He put down the rifle on the shelf, picking up one of the boxes and opening the lid, finding seeds inside. He smiled.

He was busy checking that all of them had seeds in them when he heard a thud near the door.

“Billy?” Goody asked, without looking away from the box he had just opened, which had what looked like sunflower seeds. He heard a moan and not a good moan coming from the door, and something covered the light coming from the door. Goody spun around. A tall undead clad in rags and only a few strands hair left on his head stood in door opening.

Goody dropped the box he was holding, it landed on the floor with a clatter, sunflower seeds scattered everywhere around his boots.

He stepped forward at the same time as the undead shambled inside the room. Goody continued forward. He could do this. He reached down to his hip and was met by nothing. He didn’t have his revolver. He stopped. Tilting his head to the side in confusion. He always had his gun didn’t he? He glanced behind himself, and spotted the rifle on the shelf and remembered he had only brought his rifle and not the revolver. 

The undead continued to shuffling forward. 

In his mind Goody heard his sergeant shouting about the rifle, how no one should let go of it, how it would be the only thing keeping them safe out there.

“But no one is safe,” Goody mumbled, still looking behind him.

Hands suddenly gripped his arms, and Goody flinched. Head whipping forward to look at the undead which had a tight grip on Goody and didn’t let go. It groaned loudly. 

Goody stepped to the side, trying to wrestle himself free. Twisting and turning he bumped into the wall of shelves, the edge of which dug into the small of his back. The undead growled and snarled. Goody’s nose filled with the stench of death. Open wounds littered the undead’s arms and body, showing bone and rotting flesh. Skin was missing from its jaw, showing off its teeth and mouth, as its jaws snapped open and shut.

Goody put his hands on the undead’s chest, feeling how the rib cage almost caved in under the pressure of his hands, ribs starting to crack as he pushed the undead in front of him across the room. They crashed into the lined up tools which loudly clattered to the ground.

The undead growled, the stench from it’s mouth had Goody gasp for breath, as it leaned forward and tried to bite Goody’s neck. Goody tried to take a step back, but it was still holding onto Goody tightly. Goody grabbed the shirt of the undead and swung them around. Throwing them sideways into the shelves on the other wall. The shelf dug into his side hard and he gasped.

He spotted the hedge trimmers lying on the shelf behind the undead. He let go with one hand and tried to reach for them. The undead leaned its head forward again. Goody reached up with his other hand, putting his palm against the undead’s forehead. The skin under his palm made a squish sound, and slid disturbingly against the skull beneath, before it started to loosen and scrunch up into a ball of yellowish skin and black goo in his hand. He gagged, but he bit his tongue keeping back a yell of disgust, he also didn’t move his hand, just pressed it harder against the now visible patch of bone.

Goody twisted so that he was pushed against the shelf with his back again, and was just about to wrap his fingers around the handle of the hedge trimmers when he was interrupted.

“Goody!” Billy shouted. Because the undead was leaning in towards the side of Goody’s neck on the side furthest from the door, Goody could see over it’s shoulder, Billy stood in the door, a dark shape framed by light, holding his revolver, but he was hesitating.

“I can’t get a clear shot at it’s head,” Billy exclaimed. And with the way it had it’s mouth so close it was almost breathing on Goody’s neck, in a disturbing sick imitation of the way Billy would lean in and suck marks all down Goody’s neck, it’s head was partly obscured from where Billy stood.

Goody wrapped his hands around the hedge trimmers, he started to pull it, but he was going to need both hands. Closing his eyes he took a deep breath, and did his best to remember the movement Billy had taught him. He swept his leg, kicking the legs out from underneath the undead. They both landed on the floor. Goody moving quicker and sitting up, raising the hedge trimmers above his head. He opened them just enough and then slammed them down, the blades cutting through its eyes with a terrible sound, and black goo spurted out the eye sockets.

Goody let go, turning away and leaning on his hands on the floor, panting hard with his eyes closed. Suddenly hands were on him, and he flinched scrambling away from them.

“Goody,” Billy’s voice. “Goody, it’s me, relax, it’s alright. Everything’s alright.”

“Billy,” He opened his eyes and looked at Billy who was crouched down on the floor.

“Are you hurt?” Billy asked. Goody scanned the room for his rifle, not quite paying attention to Billy’s question, while absentmindedly wiped his hands on his pants. 

Hands gripped him again, and this time he let them, it was Billy’s hands. He knew Billy’s hands. He let himself be pulled outside into the sunshine and then pushed up against the wall. Billy’s hands roaming across Goody’s body.

“Are you hurt?” Billy asked a little bit frantic now, a few stray strands of hair having escaped from the bun at the back of his head. Goody reached up with his clean hand and pushed those strands behind Billy’s ear before cupping Billy’s cheek in his palm, looking straight into Billy’s eyes.

“I am fine, cher.”

Billy twisted his head a little bit to press a kiss to Goody’s palm.

“Can’t take my eyes off of you for one second,” Billy grumbled against the skin, and nibbled lightly at the heel of Goody’s hand before turning his head back, leaning his cheek into Goody’s palm.

“I did find seeds in there, as well as tools,” Goody said and pointed with his thumb towards the door. “Though if you would be so kind as to go inside and get them…” He trailed off, and Billy nodded, but it took him another minute to move away from Goody.

They loaded up with what they could find, anything from tools and more barbed wire to seeds and potatoes they could plant. They put a harness on Goody’s horse and hitched her up to the wagon. Billy started out on horseback, taking point, but once they entered the forest again he tied his horse to the back of the wagon and sat next to Goody on the box seat.

Dodging the ditches they had dug – some of which they discovered had one or two undead in them, some impaled but still moving and making the moaning sound they all made – they started to get closer to their home.

Trip came running down the slope barking and with his tail wagging like crazy. The fence was still standing, a few undead trying to untangle themselves to get to Billy and Goody, so Billy jumped down and dealt with them before the horses got spooked. Billy opened the gate and Goody drove inside, jumping down from the wagon and instantly had Trip jumping up on him, barking happily. Goody laughed, patted him and scritched him behind the ears while Billy closed the gate.

They checked their animals, and made sure the cabin was still standing, and satisfied with everything remaining as they had left it they made dinner.

~

They planted various crops that spring, and ate a lot of fish and eggs from their chickens. Trip occasionally bringing back a rabbit or two. In April their steer had a healthy calf. Billy and Goody started working on making the shelter they’d built for their animals into something a bit more like a stable. In May one of the mares got colic and they had to put her down.

In between fishing trips, tending to their gardens, building projects, and various other chores they still had the time to take up archery. Billy made bows, and in the late afternoons they would sit together and make arrows, whitling the ends of branches into sharp points and tying fletchling to the other ends. They’d practice trying to hit whatever undead was coming a bit too close to the fence, and if there weren’t any would shoot the arrows in an arch down the slope, telling Trip to fetch whenever the arrow had landed. It was going to take a long while before either of them were good enough to hunt using a bow, but it would save on ammunition to not have to use the rifle for hunting.

Goody never stopped counting the days, but he’d assumed that Billy had, and wasn’t entirely sure about mentioning anything about it when they approached the one year date since they first kissed. But on the day Billy rolled Goody over on his back, and leaned over him, smiling and with a look of just pure joy on his face kissed Goody on the lips.

“Happy anniversary,” Billy said.

“Happy anniversary,” Goody murmured and kissed Billy while pushing him over onto his back. Billy laughed into Goody’s mouth, sounding so happy, carefree and relaxed and Goody wanted to hear it for the rest of his life.

They stayed in bed longer than usual that day.

They had a good harvest and at the end of summer had enough food to last them all, both Billy and Goody as well as the animals, through winter. They built a shed connected to the stable, for the tools, the bins of grain, and boxes of seeds.

~

In November Goody was woken up by Trip barking like crazy outside. Grabbing his rifle he ventured out. The sun was only barely starting to show its first rays on the horizon, and besides the barking everything was calm and still. Goody walked towards the shed, where Trip was barking at the door. Goody opened the door, and before he could stop him Trip rushed inside. A second later a large black cat shot out through the door fast like lightning, carrying a rat in its mouth, Trip hot on its heels.

“Trip!” Goody called out. But the two animals rushed down the slope towards the water. But just before the bank the cat took a sharp turn to the left, and Trip skidded to a stop one foot too late, and dropped into the river.

“Trip!” Goody shouted again and ran down the slope. The water levels always receded in the fall and Goody was able to wade into the water, keeping his head just above the surface. He shivered as the cold felt like a thousand needles stinging him. He grabbed hold of the sopping wet and whimpering dog.

Billy had come rushing down as well, and was standing on the edge of the bank.

“What happened?” Billy asked.

“A cat,” Goody said through clenched teeth to keep them from chattering. He lifted up Trip to Billy who took hold of him.

“Why did you jump into the river after him?” Billy asked while Goody clambered up the side of the bank.

“I wasn’t thinking,” Goody said.

They headed up to the house where they dried off a squirming Trip, and then placed him on his bed next to the stove under a pile of blankets.

Goody felt fine for most of the day that followed until evening when he started sneezing a lot. The next day he woke up with a sore throat, a runny nose, and a hacking cough. He was bedridden for two weeks, Trip spent most of it in bed with him, while Billy took care of all the chores and in between made soup for Goody.

“The dog can both swim and climb out of that creek,” Billy muttered while he sat on the bed next to Goody a soup bowl in one hand, and spoon in the other. “Why did you have to do something so stupid?”

Goody sniveled and coughed, and once he had stopped coughing and could try to answer Billy shoved the spoon of soup into his mouth.

The cough persisted all through winter, but he was eventually allowed outside again. Billy had a surprising and unexpected fussy side to him and would probably have forced Goody to stay inside all winter if he had gotten his way.

The cat didn’t stay away, though Trip kept trying to chase it away for a while but soon enough gave up on it. Goody had to admit he was quite glad for that because the cat did keep rats away from the grain. It had probably been tame once, but it had been feral for a long while, missing an ear and it had several spots where fur was completely missing. It never really warmed to either Goody or Billy. Though Goody sometimes found Billy and the cat having staring contests, when the cat was taking a nap in the stable. And Billy insisted that he had patted it more than once. When Goody had tried to pet it he had almost lost his hand.

~

The new year came and went, and they got through the winter. On a mild afternoon in April after Goody had spent the day crawling around their herb garden getting rid of weeds, he strolled up the slope, feeling dirty, sweaty and a bit thirsty. He saw Billy standing outside the cabin looking out into the forest. Goody looked in the same direction but couldn’t see anything.

“Are you feeling restless?” Goody asked, expecting to feel some sort of uncertainty or worry, but there was none, just curiosity. Billy turned and looked at Goody.

“I want to spent the rest of my life with you,” Billy said, earnestly. His voice almost breaking with emotion. “You know that right?” Billy asked.

“Yes,” Goody said, and he did know. Did know with the utmost conviction. He grabbed Billy and pulled him into a hug. Leaning his chin on Billy’s shoulder, feeling Billy rest his head on Goody’s shoulder.

“We are going to spend eternity together,” Goody said, reassuringly. He felt Billy shudder.

“I took a nap. I had a dream,” Billy said. Goody’s arms tightened around Billy’s lean but muscular frame. “It made me think, about when you were sick.”

“It was merely a cold,” Goody protested.

“People can die from stepping on a rusty nail,” Billy said. “They can also die from a cold. Doesn’t have to be an undead getting you.” Billy’s arms around Goody’s waist tightened, and he burrowed his nose close to Goody’s neck. Goody put one hand on the back of Billy’s head.

“I’m here,” Goody whispered. “I’m fine.”

“Not in the dream you weren’t,” Billy said.

“Dreams aren’t real,” Goody said. It was a platitude. They both still had nightmares, and they always felt so disturbingly real. They’d grown rarer and several weeks could go by without Goody being woken up in the early morning hours. When Goody had those mornings he usually went outside for a walk to clear his head. When Billy’s nightmares woke him he usually sat down at the table sharpening his knives.

Billy huffed out a breath, warm on Goody’s skin.

“I have had days when I was convinced you were a dream,” Billy mumbled into Goody’s skin. “Too good to be true.”

“I must confess I have had the same thoughts about you yourself,” Goody said. “And if you are a dream, I pray every day I won’t wake up.”

Billy leaned his head back, and Goody captured his lips in a long kiss which started out sweet but quickly turned dirty and had heat pooling in his gut. He nibbled at Billy’s bottom lip, sucking on it until it was glistening before they slowly pulled apart.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me I am sweaty and gross and need a wash, but I would be happy to–” he broke off at the slow grin spreading on Billy’s lips, and the strong hand suddenly gripping Goody’s wrist.

“I’ll give you a reason to wash,” Billy said, and Goody happily let himself be tugged inside by Billy.

~

The sun flowers Goody had planted near the westerly and the easterly corners of the cabin bloomed, and spring turned into a hot summer, where Billy and Goody had to haul a lot of water out of the creek to water their crops. 

The steer and bull were allowed to spend the summer in the same pasture, while the yearling was left in it’s own enclosure.

Trip chased away a fox one night, sadly a little too late, and when Goody went to gather eggs in the morning he found half the chickens dead.

They spent the day cleaning out the feathers and blood and then securing the coop a bit more. Three days later Billy shot a fox. There was no way of knowing if it was the same one, but Billy had a very satisfied look on his face after the fact.

Their second anniversary came and they celebrated it in much the same way they had their first with a lie in, and some very enthusiastic love making.

In August they gorged themselves on crayfish all month long. Goody had made a bunch of wire mesh baskets which he had placed all along the creek, and ended up walking almost a mile upstream.

A large group of undead managed to somehow stumble their way past their defenses one morning in September and almost ran down the fence. They spent a couple of hours dealing with them, and then the next weeks putting up obstacles of sharpened poles in between the original fence and a new additional barb wire fence on both sides of their meadow.

They captured wild turkeys in November and made a proper feast out of them, the leftovers lasting them for a couple of days.

The winter was long and dark, but the harvest had been good, and both Goody and Billy had pulled up a large number of fish from the creek, salting and preserving them so that it would last them a long time. They’d also considered killing the younger cow, but they hadn’t depleted their stores and decided to leave it for another year, fattening it up some more in the summer.

They spent a lot of time indoors during the winter, when they were finished with the chores outside, sometimes curled up on bed together, but more often mending things, or they would sit and talk over a game of cards. The good thing about Billy was that Goody had ever since they met always enjoyed Billy’s company and since Billy enjoyed Goody’s company, the close quarters for such long stretches of time really wasn’t an issue.

Late in the spring, when the grass was green and fresh, the cow had a second calf, and was once more relegated to a separate pasture. After the summer though they were going to have to get rid of one of the cows, they consumed too much food for their meadow to possibly sustain the number they had.

“Should have bred pigs instead,” Billy said, and Goody could only nod and agree.

~

In his dreams he was back on the battlefield, looking down the barrel of his rifle and the enemy. He fired shot after shot, hitting every time, the blue clad men falling to the ground. Only they didn’t stay on the ground, they got up again, walking towards Goody en masse, until they surrounded him. Demanding he too die, just like them.

He woke with a gasp, sweaty and cold at the same time. His body trembling. He looked over at BiIly next to him, but he was sleeping so deeply, after four days of bad nightmares and just plain difficulties sleeping, and Goody didn’t want to rouse him. The sky was light grey outside their window, so it was at least dawn.

So Goody slipped out of bed quietly, he pulled on pants and walked over to Trip, trying to rouse him but the dog just turned his back to Goody, who let out a huff.

“Lazy dog,” Goody whispered. He opened the door and slipped outside. He peeked through the window next to the door and watched Trip jump up on the foot of the bed and curling up at Billy’s feet, like he always did when Goody left on his early morning walk.

Goody strolled down the slope, a light mist hung in the air, thicker above the creek, and the water was partially obscured until he reached the bank. He stopped there, breathing in deeply. The last memories, and last impressions of the dream drifting away like the mist.

He thought he saw a shape of something moving on the opposite side of the water. He narrowed his eyes, trying to make something out, but not until the mist swirled and moved away with the gust of wind, could he make something out. An undead stood on the opposite bank. Goody blinked and more shapes resolved themselves. Not one undead, several of them. They were just standing there, and now that Goody saw them he thought he could hear a soft moaning in the air.

One of them lurched towards the edge of the bank, it had spotted Goody. It shuffled forward, one leg twisted around on itself. It dropped off the edge of the bank, landing in the water with a loud splash.

“Oh come on,” Goody groaned in annoyance. “We bathe there!” 

The undead waved its arms in the air before it sank like a rock.

When Billy and Trip joined him an hour later Goody was still watching them, but they weren’t moving, just standing there. Trip growled when he spotted them, and Billy put a hand around his collar, holding him back.

“Morning cher,” Goody said, kissing Billy’s cheek. “Can’t say it’s a _good_ morning.”

“No, I suppose not,” Billy said.

“One fell in,” Goody said, “sank like a stone.”

“Can they drown?” Billy asked. “Or is he still, well not alive, but you know what I mean, on the bottom of the creek?”

“No idea, and I’m not particularly keen on finding out.”

“We’re going to have to deal with it though,” Billy said. “We bathe there,” he pointed at the river.

“I said that too,” Goody said. Billy shot him an amused little smile.

“I suppose I can take care of the ones on the other side of the bank first though,” Billy said. Goody decided to sit and watch while Billy went back to the cabin to fetch weapons, shutting Trip inside while he was at it.

“Really?” Goody asked when Billy returned carrying the bow and arrows. He shrugged, and handed Goody the rifle.

“Might as well practice.”

Goody took full advantage of his position to watch Billy draw and release arrows. Some landed in the water, but eventually he had figured out the distance and started hitting the undead, not always in the head, and some looked a lot like prickly hedgehogs before Billy managed to get an arrow through their heads. Goody applauded every time he did take one down though, while grinning broadly. Goody used the rifle to pick off some of the undead too far away for the reach of Billy’s bow.

Eventually all of the undead on the other side seemed to be lying on the ground and staying down.

“Now about the one at the bottom of our creek,” Billy said.

“I suppose I could dive down and check if it’s still moving about?” Goody said. Billy gave him a deeply unimpressed look.

“I’m not saying I’ll swim right up to him, I’ll just make sure it’s not moving, at a distance.”

“I don’t like it,” Billy grumbled, opened his mouth to say something else, but Goody was already pulling off the simple white shirt he had been wearing to bed and not changed out of when he went outside.

Goody pulled off his pants and boots as well before Billy had collected himself from being distracted.

“Why is your solution always to get into the creek?” Billy asked. “I think you lose your mind around water,” he said, but handed Goody a knife.

“Well, I am a pisces,” Goody said, with a grin before dropping down into the water.

“How does that explain anything?” Billy asked, sounding confused.

Goody dipped his head down under the water. He had been perhaps a tad bit optimistic, the water was quite murky and dark, and he couldn’t really see that much in front of himself. His feet touched the bottom and he moved forward a few steps before breaking the surface and taking a deep breath.

“This is a stupid idea, come back up,” Billy shouted. He also said something else, but it was drowned out by the water.

The water stung in his eyes as he kept them open, but he didn’t see anything more as he moved forward. He thought that he had had a pretty good idea of where the undead had tumbled into the water, and therefore thought that he would have come upon it straight ahead. As such he was more than a little surprised when a hand reached out directly to his right and grabbed hold of his ankle.

Goody gasped and tried to scream but no noise came out obviously, only bubbles as he lost all his precious air from his lungs replaced with water. His reflexes made him cough and splutter. He tried to kick his way to the surface but the hand around his leg tightened and pulled him down to the bottom. He waved his hands above his head desperately. Vaguely thinking he could hear a loud splash, but the sound was dulled by the water.

Black spots danced in front of his eyes and he gasped desperately for air that didn’t exist, his heart racing as he began to panic.

Suddenly a different set of hands touched his waist, making their way down to where the undead was holding him. Dead fingers were pried off of Goody’s leg and he was able to kick himself back to the surface. He gasped for breath coughing and spitting out water before he realized Billy hadn’t broken the surface with him. He dove down, and saw Billy grappling with the undead. It was holding onto one of Billy’s hands. Goody handed the knife back to Billy who launched himself forward in the water and stabbed the knife straight into the thing’s head.

Billy latched onto Goody, who was feeling unusually weak and together they broke the surface and made their way to the bank again where they dragged themselves up and laid down on their backs, panting hard, Goody in only underwear, and Billy still wearing all his clothes.

Eventually when they had caught their breaths, Billy rolled over so that he was leaning over Goody, looking down into Goody’s eyes. He pressed a hard fierce kiss to Goody’s lips before he pulled back.

“You are banned from going into water without supervision, forever,” Billy said. Goody wasn’t really listening. Instead he pushed a few wet strands of Billy’s hair behind his ear, before burying his hand in the hair at the back of Billy’s head and pulling him into a kiss.

Later Billy dove into the water again, naked and showing off his lithe body, with a rope he tied around the undead. Using the rope he pulled the undead up on the bank on the opposite side of the river, taking the opportunity to make sure all the undead on the other side were really dead, and then setting fire to all of the corpses.

When they had time to spare that spring and early summer they built defenses on the bank on the other side of the creek.

Busy as they were they soon reached their third anniversary. After which the summer just carried on, as did the harvesting and the beginning of fall. They had found some semblance of routine. Something like a normal life, which only occasionally was interrupted by the undead coming a little too close to their home.

~

In October they went on a short hunting trip. Goody was still struggling a bit with the archery, he had been a good shot with a rifle, but being good at aiming at stuff wasn’t the only skill he needed when holding a bow. Billy on the other hand had gotten quite adept at it, so Goody mostly tagged along so that Billy could show off to someone, and because he wanted to keep an eye on him. They left Trip to guard the cabin, and because he had a tendency to just chase away other animals.

After two days they had wasted a lot of arrows, but Billy had managed to kill one deer – the killing shot from a rifle, but it did have an arrow stuck in its side.

“Let’s go home,” Billy said, and started dragging the deer behind him.

‘Home’ Gody thought a warm feeling in his chest. It was their home, his and Billy’s, _theirs._

He felt a sense of joy and pride when they emerged from the forest back to their meadow, looking up at the cabin at the top of the slope. This was the home they had made together. He didn’t know for how long they would live, for how long they would get to keep their home, but for now they were safe and alive and together, and that was all that mattered.

He grabbed Billy’s arm, stopped him, spun him around and kissed him. Billy kissed him back after only half a seconds surprise. Soft lips meeting Goody’s and Goody was going to hold onto him for an eternity. A horde of undead wouldn’t be able to stop him.

“I love you,” Goody said when they broke the kiss. He had told Billy he loved him before, but he wanted to repeat it forever, because it would never get any less true.

“I love you too,” Billy said with a small smile, and Goody kissed the corner of his mouth.

“Stay with me forever?” Goody asked.

“For eternity,” Billy said. Goody smiled, pleased.

They couldn’t really know what the next day would bring, the next week, month, year, but that wouldn’t stop them from creating a life here together – _forever._

**Author's Note:**

> I had two zombie au ideas one modern and then this. the modern one is a lot more painful (though neither Goody or Billy dies) and would need to be a lot longer. I still kinda want to write the other one too, but like I've done zombies now I can't do that again.


End file.
